


The Steed

by Fire_BornOfIce



Series: Edda [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Childbirth, Mpreg, Other, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-06-26 10:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19766482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_BornOfIce/pseuds/Fire_BornOfIce
Summary: How Asgard gained its defences, how Odin gained a steed and how a trickster's path took a dark turn.A retelling of the myth of the birth of Sleipnir, within the MCU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, Ragnarok rendered Sleipnir as Loki's son, and any little scrap of some mythology Easter Egg I might have wished for in this movies - non-canon by showing him in one of the murals on the ceiling Hela uncovered (which would have been painted before Thor and Loki were born).
> 
> But I can ignore little details.
> 
> I tried to look for lesser known Norse gods for the minor character names. The Vali here is not referencing Loki's son by Sigyn, but one of the brothers of Odin (though they are not brothers in this context. I think it is safe to assume that MCU Odin has no siblings).
> 
> Also I was struggling to come up with how exactly to factor in the wall that plays a huge part in this story, until I remembered the shield that Kurse deactivates from inside the palace in Dark World and, well, it ended up working quite neatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings for the fic are at the end of this chapter)

This all began so long ago I barely remember it.

It started with a rumour. A whisper in the taverns that made its way back to the palace. Being something of an expert on whispers myself, I had long ago ensured I was the first to know any rumour important enough to breach the palace walls.

‘Asgard has a visitor.’

There was not much more to it than that, but I had gathered by the end of the night that the visitor was male, two to three millennia of age, well built and not notably non-Aesir himself (though there was debate on that fact; height suggested there was dwarf blood in him), and that he had brought nothing with him but a cart full of tools and the horse that had pulled it.

The next morning, I was surprised to be summoned to a meeting of the royal council, alongside Thor. It was not the first time. We were princes, after all, and had to learn about the business of ruling a realm somehow. But we were still young and so we would only have been summoned to this meeting because it was not a matter of any vital importance. We sat to observe minor issues only.

How naïve I was then.

The man struck an odd figure amongst the finery of the meeting chamber. He was generally unkempt, with a great bush of a beard, the hardened, leathery hands and tattered, leathery clothes of a workman. And as the rumours has suggested he was, indeed, huge. I felt the heat of jealousy rising from Thor, beside me. The craftsman could have lifted the table with all the councillors sat upon it with only one hand, if he had wanted.

I was less concerned with this and more so with what such a man was doing here in the first place? The palace had its own contractors. This man should be plying his trade in town, not appealing to Odin himself. But I was here to listen, and so listen I did.

‘You are in need, Asgardians,’ said the man. He was soft-spoken, but his voice was still large enough to boom over the table. ‘I can fulfil that need.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Vali, Father’s right-hand man and the council’s designated speaker, ‘but we have not called for a builder and as far as I can see, we have no need of one. The palace is in perfect order. None of Asgard’s buildings are falling into disrepair and there has been no request to commission something new. So, what need do you speak of?’

The craftsman – the Builder, I should say – smiled. His teeth were yellow and cracked. ‘Defences.’

Thor tensed, and he was not the only one. There was a rumble of murmuring from all around the table at the word. Some implication of a threat…

So much, in fact, that it was Odin, my father, who spoke next.

‘Explain yourself.’

‘Certainly.’ The Builder straightened. ‘I have no doubt you are well prepared in case of attack, Borson, but Asgard sits in the middle of space. What defence have you from an unexpected attack?’

‘We have weapons. Cannon.’

‘Soldiers grow weary. Faults can occur in machinery.’

‘Our watchman, Heimdall, sees all.’

‘But he is a single man, and a man can be killed,’ said the Builder, with a sneer in his voice. Another rumble from the council, quieted by Father’s goblet striking the table.

The Builder continued. ‘The best defence, Borson, is not always a good offence. You have no walls, I see.’

‘Asgard does not lend itself to walls,’ said Ve. ‘We are an open, welcoming realm.’

‘And you can be, always, but still be defended,’ the Builder replied. He began to gesture, his movements growing more extravagant with every word. ‘Not all walls have to be brick and mortar. What I propose - what I can build for you – is a revolution in terms of walls. One that is invisible to the naked eye, yet covers Asgard like a dome, protecting from any attack from outside.’

He had rehearsed this pitch, I could tell. He built it with expertise to its climax and hit that with a flourish. By the time he finished, every eye was trained on him. The council was held by his words.

‘How much?’ asked Odin.

This was what the Builder had been waiting for. His eyes lit up, but the light was… well, dark.

‘A small price. I do not wish for money,’ he said, and extended an arm to point to the Lady Freyja. ‘But for the hand of the Goddess of Beauty.’

It was like a switch had been pressed, and instantly all those who had been hanging on the Builder’s words flinched back. Freyja herself, red as an apple, cried, ‘Absolutely not!’

‘Is my appearance distasteful to you?’ the Builder asked.

Freyja squirmed, unwilling to speak a truth that may offend. ‘No… But you cannot just claim a person as a price!’

‘I am not claiming. You have a choice in the matter,’ said the Builder. ‘Say no and I will turn away, pack up my cart and be on my way to another realm, to see if they will buy my services.’ He spoke delicately. ‘Of course, if some other realm does choose to take me up on my offer, they will be a hard target to breach should the realms go to war. And, of course, should they ask for references I will have to inform them that Asgard refused my service…’

He looked straight into Father’s eye, challenging him to refuse now.

It was an impossible decision, even for a King. Either Freyja lost her freedom, or Asgard would go undefended against those who would wish us harm… and this man was forcing Father to make it in seconds.

A thousand memories of invading monsters from childhood nightmares filled my head.

A voice spoke.

‘I request the floor.’

The voice was mine.

Every eye turned to me. Father’s was hard and cold.

‘What is it you wish to say, Loki?’

I turned to the Builder. ‘Are we the first realm you have come to?’

‘Yes.’

‘You swear that is the truth.’

‘I swear it. Upon my honour, my tools and my horse.’

‘So, no other realm can vouch for the quality of your work?’

The Builder licked his cracked lips. ‘I guess not.’

‘Where do the materials come from?’

‘A quarry asteroid, not far from here.’

‘And labour?’

‘Hired. There are many such as I who wander between the realms, seeking work.’

The seed of an idea was forming.

‘I wish to propose something of a bet, if you would allow it, Father.’ I glanced towards him and he waved his hand, which I took as permission. ‘A small-scale version of this protective wall of yours. Around the palace only. And you must construct it alone.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘I fail to see my advantage in this bet.’

‘We give you a deadline,’ I said. I spoke slowly, thinking through every word before I let it leave my mouth. ‘If you can complete your task, without aid, by that time, we pay you what you wish. And we think about commissioning a larger version around the whole realm. If not, you get to leave us with an incomplete wall.’

The Builder contemplated.

‘Twelve months,’ he said. ‘I can do it in twelve.’

I stared at him. I tried to look like Father.

‘Six.’

‘Done,’ he said. ‘One request.’

‘Name it.’

‘I get a shuttle to take me to and from the asteroid quarry.’ He thought for a second. ‘And I get to use my horse.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic contains scenes of rape (between an animal and a character in an animal form), the death of an animal and a birth scene, as well as other scenes that may be upsetting for some readers. Please continue at your discretion.


	2. Chapter 2

Six months passed in a blur.

Asgard, perhaps unfairly, did everything it could to inconvenience the builder. Setting the docking point for his quarry ship at the furthest point of the rainbow bridge. Making that ship one of the oldest and most prone to repairs of all Asgard had at its disposal. Making him pay for room and board at a crummy tavern in the outer city from his own pocket. And, of course, not providing any help of any kind.

Not that it mattered. We could have provided ten men and it would have taken him twice as much time for him to complete the job. The horse did the work of twenty. It should have taken him weeks to collect the mineral from the quarry and bring the load back each time. It took him days.

The six-month deadline was creeping up fast, and he would be finished in plenty of time. And the Builder knew it. He had started taking rest days, leisurely making the most of Asgards markets and bars whilst the horse grazed lazily in the field. He could take as many such days as he wanted and still finish within plenty of time.

I knew it was only a matter of time before I was summoned before the council to explain myself.

Freyja was red with rage. The others did not look much better. They began bombarding me with questions at once,

“What fool choice drove you to agree to his demand?”

“I never thought we’d have to,” I said. I looked at Father, looking for help and hoping very much that it did not look like that was what I was doing.

“You gave him too long a deadline,” said Tyr, who was at least speaking in a reasonable tone and not shouting,

I looked at the floor. “He deceived us. He claimed he would need twelve months, that much shorter would be insufficient, so I gave him half in the hopes that we would have at least half a wall, and be able to observe the techniques necessary to complete it ourselves…”

“The trickster was tricked?” Vali huffed. “A likely story. Freyja is going to have to marry that common brute because of you.”

“I shall not do it!” Freyja sat up to her full height, all beauty overshadowed by haughtiness. “I will not be made a prize. Loki should have to marry him instead. Really, Odin, you should have married him off long ago.”

There was a murmur from the table, mostly of agreement. For what purpose did a second royal child serve, other than to be married off for political gain? I thought about being made to wed that man, and shuddered, feeling Freyja’s fears.

Thor elbowed me with a grin. “You could disguise yourself as Freyja, just as I did back when Mjolnir was taken, remember?”

And then what, I thought, miserably? That had been because of a theft, and Thrym an enemy giant amassing an army. Thor had been entirely within his right to slay him. But this was an innocent builder, and the marriage had been the price agreed to. I couldn’t put a blade in him when he was off-guard. That would be murder. No, I would have to go through with it, and everything it entailed… Wearing Freyja’s face or my own…

“No,” said Father. “I shall not allow that.”

My shoulders relaxed instantly. “Thank you, Father.”

“But Loki…” He leaned forwards and I was paralysed by the icy glare of his single eye. “It was you who agreed the price and set the deadline. Therefore, my son, it is down to you to find a solution. You are clever, my boy. Set that mind to work. Come up with an alternate price to pay this man… Or find some way to prevent him from completing that wall before the sun sets five days from now.”

I dropped to one knee and lied.

“I will not let you down, Father.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan goes right... Until it goes wrong
> 
> (warning in the notes at the end of the chapter)

I watched from a distance. I had to choose my moment.

The Builder’s path from palace to ship was a long one, passing through the city, a patch of woodland, and then a wide, open field before reaching the docking bay.

I had stalked the man through the city, tracked him through the woods. His horse would be grazing in the field. I had picked this moment carefully. He was about to make his final trip to the quarry. I could not catch him on his return, for if I did the horse would be harnessed to a cart and the whole plan would fall through.

The whole, reckless, foolish plan.

No, it had to be done now, before he saddled it up. And then, I would have to hope my timings were sound. They had not been when I had dreamt up our little bet and that mistake was coming back to punish me. I was determined my calculations would hold up this time.

I could, of course, have taken a mare from the stables or even tracked down a wild one. Enchanted her, to drive her into a powerful heat.

But that was too risky. Even in hindsight I know that would not have worked. Relying on two wild animals would make the whole thing uncontrollable, and I needed control. Needed to know this would work, and in my mind there was only one way to make sure.

The Builder was clicking his tongue to call the stallion to him. Svadilfari, the beast was called. He was as immense as his master. A gargantuan workhorse. No wonder the Builder worked so fast, with a beast of this size and strength to help him.

I readied myself. An illusion would not do here. A simple projection would have no matter, no scent, no weight. It would not work at all. An illusion across my own form would have mass of its own, but it would not be enough to fool. Not to mention, whilst an illusion took little effort to cast, prolonged use would be draining.

A shapeshift – a full, complete one – was the opposite. Whilst it would take an immense amount of power to perform the action, once my body was transformed, I would be able to eat, to rest, and renew energy as though I was the creature I had become. The risk with a shapeshift was not in loosing hold of the spell, but in loosing myself to the instinct of the animal.

But I would only be spending a little time as a horse.

It was a risk, I knew, but I had to fool both horse and master, completely and utterly.

I can only imagine what the scene looked like, playing out to an onlooker, or to the Builder himself. One moment Svadilfari was grazing peacefully in the field, about to be harnessed for a final burst of work. The next, a grey mare – lithe, graceful and in-season – trotted into the field.

She made a couple of passes up and down the field and after the second or third, Svadilfari began to pay attention, raising his head and snorting softly.

The mare danced just into and just out of reach, flicking her tail, daring him to give chase.

The distance was key. Too close and he would catch up too quickly. Too far and he may lose interest.

It happened quicker than I had anticipated. Svadilfari bolted. The moment took me by surprise, but I waited a second longer before I turned and ran too. If I had gone too fast, he may not have given chase. And he needed to chase. I needed him to be lost, and long enough that the Builder would not complete his task.

I heard a loud string of curses fade into the distance, as I plunged into the woods, and knew the first part had worked. Now to lead a merry dance until the stallion tired. I had taken the path of least resistance to reach the field, but in the other direction the woods turned to wild forest. Anyone would get lost in that maze. Horse and master might wander for days before finding each other again. I just had to get deep enough, and keep Svadilfari on my tail…

I ran a zig-zag path through the bracken and bush, not halting even when the branches turned to thorns and the canopy grew thick enough to blot out daylight. I could hear the crash of hooves and the snorts of breath behind me and knew I was still being followed. I sped up and slowed down accordingly. Only when Svadilfari was exhausted could I stop and return to my own body.

The mare paid little attention to her surroundings, and I was too focused on my duty to keep track of my path. I was quite lost myself, and too lost to even realise it. Had I passed that tree already? That rock formation? What was ahead of me? The edge of the realm?

I don’t know how long I ran. Perhaps hours, but my mind screamed at me to stop and get my bearings, and the mare’s instinct screamed that danger, predators, would be lurking in the depths and shadows around me.

Could I hear hoof beats anymore? Was that sound Svadilfari’s breath or my own?

A roar… I heard a roar…

I skidded to a halt, tearing grass and dirt with my hoofs. And just in time. The trees gave way to a clearing and mere feet away a steep drop of mud and rock, at the bottom a raging river, rushing angrily towards the waterfalls that poured away into space.

In all my adventures, hunts, explorations. I had never seen this part of Asgard before.

I strained to hear… Was Svadilfari long gong? I heard nothing. Nothing but the river. Could I change? But stopping made me realise how much I had run. The exertion of shapeshifting, followed at once by the effort of the chase. No… No, I had not the energy to change again. I had to rest, I had to…

A thunder of hoofbeats, and a crash behind me.

Svadilfari burst from the trees and was upon me in moments, and all he saw, all he smelled, was a mare in the desperate throes of heat.

Maybe I should have anticipated it, but in the moment, I was taken completely by surprise.

It hurt.

And yet, it did not.

It was as though I was two of myself. One, the mare, given only to instinct, who was ready for it, who wanted it, embraced it.

And second, myself, seeming to witness from as if outside my body, to watch the violation helpless to stop it. But unable to detach completely, feeling every second of it. Humiliation, more than pain. A scream in my mind…

 _Why did I stop running_?

It did not last long. Small mercies. Svadilfari – who had no malice, no cruelty, who was just a stupid horse acting as stupid animals do – wandered off to graze and I was left wanting to collapse but unable, stumbling on shaking mare’s legs, trying to gather enough thought to process what had just happened.

 _I must change_.

The mare – the stupid mare part of my brain – lowered her head to graze too, and I let the instinct act for me. I could not do it myself.

 _Change_.

No. I could not. I was exhausted. The effort would do me harm.

 _More than has already been done_?

Water. I wanted water. The mare wanted water, but the nearest was rushing twenty feet below…

Svadilfari trotted back to me. Nosed at my neck and my mane. Snorted and clicked. Pressed his shoulder to my flank.

Circling. Preparing…

 _Not again. No, not again. Change. Change_.

A hoof the size of my head pawed the ground.

_He will crush you._

_Then let me be crushed_.

I closed my eyes and poured all the energy I had left into the change. I saw green light around me, my hands hit the ground, followed by the rest of me.

The enormous hoof struck the ground only inches from my head.

Svadilfari did not seem angry at the sudden disappearance of his mate. He gave one last snort, turned and wandered off. I cared not where. I was too tired to care.

_It is done. He is lost. Asgard has won its stupid, petty bet. Father will be proud._

The effect of a shapeshift, as opposed to an illusion which only projects a false appearance atop ones own, is that any injury sustained in one form will continue to the next.

My clothes and the skin beneath had been shredded by the forest as I had run.

I did not care to look and see what more damage was done. I could feel it well enough.

I barely had the energy to do so, but somehow I managed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the chapter where it happens. Brief warning: rape of a character by an animal whilst that character is shapeshifted into an animal. Very brief, not described in detail.


	4. Chapter 4

****

My magic woke me. Sleep had brought what I had lost from shifting twice back to me. A blast ran through me, jerking my body from the ground. It is like an extra sense to me, and it pulled me in different directions. One part screamed ‘danger!’, as I was vulnerable in unfamiliar territory, and the sky had grown dark. It dragged at me to stay alert, stay focussed. The rest had sensed the bruises and cuts across my body and had set to healing them all at once.

I was helpless to it. I rolled onto my back and waited for it to stop. It struck the worst wounds first and I wept to feel it. Once it had moved onto the minor scrapes, I felt able to push myself to my feet. I couldn’t stay here. Even if all I wanted was to curl up and never move again.

For a moment, I panicked. I had no idea where I was. I was lost and alone in at night in a strange part of the realm. How was I too…

“Fool, you are not thinking straight,” I hissed at myself. My own voice sounded strange to me. Hoarse, overused, as if I had been screaming. Had I? Had I screamed through the mare’s mouth and not even noticed? My legs buckled and threatened to fail on me. I stumbled to the nearest tree for support.

“Think on what you have been taught. The river! Follow the river home!”

Easier said than done. It was slow going, and I realised as I tried to set a steady pace that I was limping. There was more damage than I had realised. I would have to see a healer when I got…

“No!” I growled. No one could know of this. A horse, by the Norns, I would never hear the end of it if word got out. I already knew of cruel things spoken about me when Asgard thought I could not hear. What worse might they say?

_Loki the horse-fucker._

“It never happened.”

I wove the story as I walked, getting it right in my head. I enchanted a wild mare and set her loose and guided the chase through the forest with magic until Svadilfari was lost, then set her free of the charm and she ran away. I would return to Asgard, triumphant in my scheme, and the failed Builder would have to walk away without Freyja. Everyone would be happy; we would feast and it would be forgotten in a week. No one need know.

“Perhaps there exists a potion to wipe the mind of a day’s worth of memory,” I mused. “Or perhaps just a copious amount of drink will amount to the same thing.”

I stumbled and almost fell. More than once.

The lights of Asgard were coming into focus in the distance. I felt myself speeding up, not caring now if I tripped, if I could even hold myself up. I would have crawled if I had to. I turned away from the river, pulling myself across thickets with every branch I could reach, until the forest stopped and…

I was in the field.

It was empty now. I checked and double checked but there was not a soul present. Not Builder. Not horse.

I kept to the edge, to the tree line, unwilling to put myself in the middle of the open space. The trees were shelter. The woods were safety. Out there was the unknown.

Closer to Asgard now… Closer to home… Closer to a warm bed and a bath and clothes that were not in tatters. To be able to lie down, to eat, to wash my legs of…

Bile caught in my throat. I stopped, hands and forehead pressed to an old beech, breathing until the feeling passed.

I wanted to tear every scrap of material from my body and burn it.

Voices.

In the distance, growing closer. Chatter. Laughter. People making jokes. How dare they laugh? How dare…

“Get a hold of yourself!” I snarled. I dug my nails into my palms, then scratched them down my arms. Getting back my senses.

They could not see me like this.

A simple illusion. It was little effort to conjure a Loki who was not stooped, not scratched and bruised, whose leathers and robes were intact. Who walked without issue. Just having the image around me made me walk with my head a little higher.

I approached the voices, seeing torches.

“Ho!”

I… and the projection I created, raised a hand and waved until I was spotted and the torches stopped in their path and started a new one towards me. Amongst those in guard uniform were familiar faces – Fandral and Hogun.

“Where have you been, trickster?” asked Fandral, clapping an arm about my back.

“Separating Builder from steed,” I replied. “A merry chase, but a long enough one, I hope.”

“You have missed much,” said Hogun.

I smiled, biting the insides of my cheeks. “Can the story wait? I stink of the forest and I could do with a drink.”

The two warriors exchanged looked, before Fandral nodded decisively. “The others can carry on. We’ll accompany you back to the palace.”

We had barely started when there was a loud crashing in the undergrowth. Footsteps, running, like thunder.

My body locked and my feet refused to move.

“Brother!”

Thor’s arms wrapped around me from behind and I jerked in his embrace. The grip was loose enough that I could turn, and so I whipped around.

Damn the stupid, wide smile on his stupid face.

“You’re here! Thank the Norns! I’ve so much to tell you! I thought we’d run into you. We’ve had search parties out looking for that stallion for hours now.”

For the stallion. Yes, of course they would.

“Yes, Thor, I am here.” I pushed him away and his smile was replaced with a wince.

“You’re not pleased to see me, then, brother?”

“Huh?” I glanced down. There was a dagger in my hand, point prodding at Thor’s side. I didn’t remember summoning it. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“Little snake,” Thor teased.

He kept his arm around me as we walked, steering me homewards and – though he wasn’t to know it – stopping me from collapsing. He talked the whole time. A dull retelling of his day, for the most part, but towards the end I suddenly started paying attention.

“- he came storming into the council room, right in the middle of the meeting. Said his horse had run off and he was sure of an enchantment. Your doing, I guess?”

“Hm? Yes… yes, a spelled mare,” I muttered.

“Clever, brother, clever.” Thor slapped my shoulder and I almost lost my footing. “Well, the great brute got angrier and angrier and he started growing. And then the old Builder was gone and he was a Frost Giant! You hear me, Loki, a Frost Giant in Asgard’s halls.”

I froze as though I myself had touched ice. “What? We kept one of them in the halls of Asgard? Within its walls for six whole months! What damage might he have wrought? We cannot keep his protective shield!”

“Oh, the shield is fine. We don’t think he had any loyalty to Laufey. Asgard’s best sorcerers have scoured every inch of what he built and there is no hidden fault or trick. He kept his word and built a solid wall. But that explains his great strength.”

“Was his steed a disguised frost beast too?”

“No idea. We’ll know when its caught, I guess. Anyway, he grew and changed to his proper form and the room started to frost over, so I called Mjolnir to me and knocked his head off!” Thor chuckled. “I can show you it when we return, if no one’s thrown it out.”

I licked my lips. “And when did this happen?”

“This morning,” Thor said. “Not an hour after you left the meeting to weave your spell.”

An hour. An hour. How long had I led that creature a merry dance before it caught me? Longer than that. The sun had passed its highest point when I reached the valley.

Pointless, all pointless. It could have been resolved without me even having to leave the room. The monster would have revealed himself eventually. Any marriage would have been deemed invalid through deception. Freyja was never in any danger and I had thrown myself on the sword for nothing.

“Brother? Are you okay?” Thor was shaking me.

“Fine,” I whispered. “Tired. Magic is draining.”

“Its okay, Loki.” Thor’s voice was softer now. He leaned in close so his friends could not hear. “You don’t need to beat yourself up over not recognising a fellow shapeshifter. He fooled even mother.”

I was silent until we reached home. I excused myself, waving away Thor’s request that I visit the infirmary, and hurried to my rooms as fast as my body would let me.

I fell upon my bed and let myself sink into softness for a moment.

My clothes felt ungodly sticky.

I leapt from the bed as though I had spotted a snake amongst the sheets. No, I could not let it be tainted.

I tore off my boots and ripped the leggings off first, tearing them into pieces in the process. A flick of a hand set a fire in the grate and I threw them in, shortly followed by overcoat and tunic. They were ruined anyway. Only the boots were still wearable.

I threw those on the fire too.

Nakedness, however, meant nothing was hidden anymore. I had to look. The wounds were gone, yes, but the blood remained. Perhaps my eyes, my mind, were tricking me but was that… amongst the red…

I ran a scalding bath and stepped into the burning water and screamed at it. I screamed the last of my voice out. Blisters formed and burst and healed over with ugly scabs that my magic would erase by morning.

My whole body was raw when I looked in the mirror, save my face. I was not fool enough to put my head beneath water that hot. My face looked so much paler in comparison to the rest of me. Unmarred, saved the one faint scar across my top lip, a gift from the dwarves to remind me of failed tricks of the past.

“It never happened,” I told myself.

They caught Svadilfari during the night. Thor told me at breakfast.

There was no feast. No victory. No celebration. Just an ugly giant’s head trophy that Thor had to give up when it started to smell.

Life carried on.

As did I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't over yet. I am sorry to say that things are going to get worse for Loki before they get better.
> 
> I do like writing big bro Thor.


	5. Chapter 5

When you tell a lie enough times it becomes the truth.

I did not have to tell it as much as I had thought, back when I was anticipating victory celebrations. It is a fault of the Aesir that we boast when we drink, and we drink when we boast, and so the cycle begins again. I had assumed I would tell my story a billion times to drunken ears, perhaps embellishing a little more as the feasts wore on.

In the end, I only had to say it once or twice. To Thor and his friends. To Mother and Father and the council. The word spread without much of my help. So the lie became the truth.

I was content with that, and happy not to have to think of it again. I tried my best to blot that day from my mind, to carry on as if the Builder had never come.

The only difference was that I was reluctant to go riding. Or hunting. Or anything that would take me past the royal stables, since I knew what I would find there.

So it was for a month…

Summer was approaching. I had always dreaded summer. At its height, the heat rose to a point that was overwhelming, so I preferred to stick to the shade. Thor said it was my pale complexion, and that if I trained myself I would get used to the sun. Also that I wore too many layers.

He might have been right about the latter part but I was not willing to test his theory on the former.

I had long healed (the illusion was impossible to keep up forever so I allowed myself to take a hit in a sparring session the day after the Builder’s death, and used that to explain away the limp) and was looking into new branches of magic to test, to keep my mind occupied. And my hands. I had taken to worrying them. It was a habit I had picked up from mother, but it had gotten worse over the past few weeks. My palms were pinched red and raw.

“You cannot stay indoors all summer,” Thor protested, at breakfast. “We are going out to the lake to fish and bringing some weapons with us. You should come.”

Staying out in the sun all day with little shelter sounded hel-ish. But it had been a long time since I had been out of the palace, even before…

“Overnight?”

“We’ll bring tents and bedrolls. If it is nice, we’ll sleep under the stars.” Thor glanced at me, sheepishly. “And it would be helpful to have someone to help us start the fire. You know Volstagg is hopeless…”

I sighed. The lot of them were hopeless. “Okay. I shall come to light your fires.”

I packed cold drinks with ice, a couple of books, flints (because I knew Thor would forget and you cannot always rely on magic) and a change of clothes and met Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three just outside the palace. They had saddled up their horses already, Thor’s and Hogun’s harnessed to a cart that held the tents and fishing boat. I placed my pack in the cart and began to climb up with them.

“Where’s your horse, brother?” asked Thor.

“You want to keep six of the things fed? We have a perfectly good cart. I am reliving myself of the extra burden.”

“And making yourself one,” Volstagg boomed. He said it loudly so he could pass it off as a joke, knowing it would be dangerous to mutter under his breath. I was used to comments being spoken like that. No one dared offend a prince, so they pretended they were laughing with me, not at me.

The others laughed.

“Very well!” Thor said. “My brother shall ride in the cart like a fair princess, he is too delicate for horseback. Besides, he did not eat a morsel at breakfast. You must be too hungry to exert yourself, brother.”

“I am fine,” I said. “I wasn’t hungry.” My stomach had refused to settle. A side effect of the building heat.

Perhaps agreeing to this excursion was a mistake.

The cart rattled and rocked along its path. I lay back and closed my eyes, trying to enjoy being jostled about by pretending I was being rocked to sleep. It half worked. I dug in my pack and managed to get down a couple of dry biscuits.

The sun rose high. I grabbed one of my cool drinks and pressed it to my forehead, which helped.

We reached the lake at midday. I sat up and lowered myself down from the cart. I was not yet at a stage where I would ask anyone for help. It was too early in the day and we were all going to be stuck there together, I was not going to give them any ammunition to mock me more than they generally would.

It did strike me that if I had ridden here, I would be able to return home any time I wished.

As it was, I was condemned to the cart, and thus their whims.

“It is hot!” Fandral crowed, already taking off his shirt.

“If it is this hot so early into the season,” I said, “I don’t think I’ll last until winter.”

Thor narrowed his eyes. “You do look paler than usual. And there are bags under your eyes.”

“Are there?” I asked, absently. I hadn’t noticed.

“You’ve looked ill for weeks,” said Thor. “You should have eaten this morning.”

“I ate on our way here,” I replied.

“You should eat more,” he insisted.

“Yes!” laughed Volstagg. “Get some muscle on those bones. Now, who’s going swimming?”

The others answered with crows of delight, and seconds later clothes were being thrown aside. None of them cared one jot about being naked in front of each other, not even Sif. They ran into the water, splashing and likely chasing off all the fish they hoped to catch later. I followed at a more leisurely pace, peeling off my layers, setting them neatly to one side.

At my undergarments, I hesitated.

“Loki?” asked Thor. “Aren’t you joining us?”

_The wounds are gone, there is nothing for them to see…_

“The water’s lovely and cool!” said Sif.

The sun beat down upon me. I needed that cool water, or I would burn.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

I waded into the water without removing my undergarments.

“So shy, Loki?” Fandral asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen!”

I gave him a thin smile and nothing else, and set out to swim. I would regret my choice later, when I had to exit the lake in with the clammy material clinging awkwardly to my skin, but at least it dried quickly in the heat.

We ate bread and cheese and cold meat and drank beer that had warmed through a little too much for any of our tastes, and then prepared the fishing boat. We had just climbed in – quite a squeeze with six of us – when we realised we wouldn’t be going anywhere fast. We had oars, yes, but the sail would be a great help, and the day was still as anything. Not a breeze to be found.

Thor looked at me with pleading eyes. I rolled mine and summoned a light wind with a flick of my hand.

“Isn’t weather magic more your area?”

“Norns, Loki, do you want to bring a storm on us?” asked Volstagg.

“I would be grateful for one, if it breaks this heat,” said Hogun.

Volstagg and Hogun took the oars and Thor and Sif pushed the boat out onto the water. They kept making eyes at each other. Little glances they thought the rest of us wouldn’t catch. I despised this relationship they seemed to have, never quite committing to anything more than rolls in the hay. It was treading on eggshells to ask whether they were courting or the worst of enemies from one day to the next.

We set sail for where the fish were plentiful.

The boat barely rocked, but somehow I felt every slight movement as though the ground was quaking.

“You look a little green,” said Volstagg.

“Loki is always green,” replied Fandral.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut out their babbling. Then, once we stopped and the tedium of fishing began, I pulled out a book and lost myself to the history of the realms.

The day continued in tiresome mundanity until the sun began to set and I was called upon to set a fire so we could cook our catch. Tents were set up. We had only three, so lots were drawn to see who would share with whom. Thor and Sif managed to win a place together, and I was fairly sure they had cheated to achieve it. The other pairs were Fandral and Volstagg, and Hogun and I. I was glad I had the quiet Hogun (I may also have cheated to achieve it). Fandral would just go on about women all night, and Volstagg’s snores were notorious.

A fat trout was sizzling away on the spit by the time we were done, and we gathered in anticipation of the food. Fat dripped from the scales and hit the red-hot embers, spitting at us…

The scent hit me like a boulder. Nausea gripped me, twisting my stomach, and I doubled over, swallowing my lunch back down.

Thor was at my side in an instant. “Loki?”

“I am…”

“Don’t say you are fine, Loki. Even you can’t convince me it’s true.”

“I… Excuse me…”

I scrambled from the fire, somehow managing to get a respectable distance away from the campsite before I threw up. I leaned against a tree, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. What the Hel was that about? The sun hadn’t hit me that hard, had it?

I was just turning back to camp when it hit me again. This time I fell to all fours as I vomited up what I hadn’t got out last time.

Slowly, carefully, I made my way back to the fireside. The stink of fish hit me again and I covered my mouth and nose.

“The heat…” I explained, seeing Thor open his mouth. I did not want him to ask if I was “alright” all evening. “I will… I will just have bread and cheese. No fish, thank you.”

They kept looking at me as we ate. They looked worried. If they really were, well, that would be a first.

We retired to the tents quickly after that. No songs or stories. Well, I am the best at those, and I did not feel much like talking. And Thor and Sif clearly had other things on their mind.

I settled down on my bedroll and Hogun on his without a word, our heads at opposite ends of the tent. I closed my eyes, just wanting the day to end. Wanting rest. To expel this heatstroke. I’d ride one of their horses home in the morning if I had to.

Hogun fell asleep quickly, by the sound of his breathing evening out. Yet it evaded me.

There were voices in the next tent. Thor and Sif. Giggling. That wasn’t helping.

Hushed whispers. Then gasps.

I squeezed my eyes closed.

A heavy grunt. Another breathy gasp. Then the sound of skin on skin, and a pair of little grunts, in sync, building to a steady rhythm.

I turned my back away from the sounds, hearing my own breath, shaking.

It was louder now, as if somehow closer. Heightening.

I slapped my hands over my ears.

 _No. No, no, no, no_ …

I couldn’t drown it out.

And it kept going. Thor, damn him, had stamina.

I curled my legs to my chest, pressed my chin to my knees, feeling myself shudder.

“Ah… ah… ah…”

_No… No…_

The snorts of hot breath in my ear. The pounding of flesh… bruising…

I just about made it out of the tent before I vomited again, all of the meagre dinner I had eaten, and then bile atop of that.

They did not stop. The gasps turning to cries, reaching a crescendo.

I coughed, hacked, threw up… something… It burned my throat on its way and left its vile taste in my mouth.

The vomit was followed by a sob I could not stop.

“What is happening?” yelled Volstagg.

That stopped them.

Fandral and Volstagg exited their tent first. Then Thor stuck his head and sweaty torso out, all of him red and clearly frustrated at the interruption. He was followed by Sif, just as naked and annoyed. Then Hogun stirred and rose behind me. All of them saw it. Me, leaning half way out of the tent, a pool of vomit beneath me, and I wanted more than anything to just disappear, or die.

“We are going home, brother,” said Thor.

He finished himself off behind a tree first. I sat in the cart and hugged my knees. I retched a couple of times but there was nothing left in me to bring up.

We rode the whole way in silence.

When we were home, Thor would not let me climb down myself. He picked me up in his arms and deposited me on my feet on the ground.

“Come, brother.”

“It is okay. I just need to go to bed…”

“No, Loki. You are going to the infirmary.” Thor looked me dead in the eye and there was lightning in them. In the sky, thunder rumbled. “Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up longer than I expected, so this fic will be a little longer than anticipated! I hope that pleases you all!


	6. Chapter 6

Thor practically dragged me to the infirmary. It was only when we got to the door that I was able to wrench my arm free of his grip. “What do you think you are doing?”

“What is best for you, brother,” Thor growled, words punctuated by another rumble of thunder. “I am not leaving until I have seen you go in. And it had better be you. No illusions or copies.”

He raised a hand and knocked hard on the door. Before I could do anything, his other hand landed on my shoulder and pinned me in place. I instantly tried to fight, to get away.

The door opened and one of the few healers who was working a night shift poked her head out. “Your majesty? Is there an emergency?”

“Loki is very sick.” Thor shoved me forwards, leaving me fighting to keep my balance. “Find out what is wrong with him before he kills himself neglecting his health.”

I stepped over the threshold. “Okay, Thor. You win, now leave.”

“Loki-“

“Leave!”

The healer put a finger to her lips. “Hush! I will not have undue stress in these rooms. Thor, you may go. You have done your part, now respect your brother’s wishes.”

Thor stalked away, looking over his shoulder the whole time in case I tried to escape.

“I am-“

“You look terrible, your majesty, if you pardon my saying so. Now come and sit down.”

She made me lie down on one of the examination tables and called a more senior healer for help.

“I was just a little sick,” I explained, as they started the soul forge, energy collecting above me, starting to form into an ethereal copy of my body. “I spent too much time in the sun. It is only heatstroke. Thor is fussing.”

I could have told them. I could have told them everything. What had happened and how it was playing on my mind. Perhaps it was stress that was making me sick. Bottling it up inside. But I had hidden behind lies before, why should now be any different?

“Just be still, my prince, we will get to the bottom of this.”

The healer was kind. I struggled to remember her name. Freydis? Vigdis?

“I could do with an ice bath,” I said, weakly. “And broth, perhaps… I don’t think I could stomach much else.”

Vigdis wasn’t looking at me. She was frowning at the projection in the soul forge. “You say you have been sick. What symptoms have you had?”

“Just vomiting.” I shrugged. “And I have been tired.”

“Lack of appetite?”

“No…” It wasn’t that I hadn’t been hungry… I had just been… unwilling to eat. My stomach had turned at the thought of it.

“Did anything trigger the sickness?”

Yes, Thor and Sif having sex. It had made me recall…

“Um… some fish. Perhaps it was bad. That might have been it.”

But I hadn’t eaten it, and none of the others had been sick.

“Hm…”

Vigdis clicked her tongue, then waved her hand at the projection. “Loki, do you see these dark areas?”

I squinted at what she was indicating. Three dark patches, two smaller, flanking one larger in the area of my lower abdomen. “Yes.”

“Do you know what they are?”

I shook my head. “Is something wrong?”

“Loki, I have been examining you since you were a child, so I know your anatomy quite well. But these are not anything I have seen in you before.”

“What are they?”

“They are a womb and ovaries.”

I sat bolt upright, disturbing the image. Vigdis put a hand on my chest and pushed me back down.

“What!” I yelled.

“Hush, my prince. Now, tell me honestly, have you shapeshifted recently? Into a feminine form. I am not going to ask for details, just tell me yes or no.”

I couldn’t look at her. “I… Yes. I made myself female. Just a little… experiment.”

She nodded, expression blank. “You are aware that a true shapeshift is absolute. Some sorcerers can only change the outside. It seems you managed to alter the inside as well, possibly unknowingly. You shifted your own organs into new ones. That is very powerful magic, my prince.” She was now making that area of the projection larger, so we could see closer. “Part of the reason you may have been feeling strange lately is because your organs have shifted to accommodate these as well.”

I felt queasy again. “But why did they not change back when the rest of me did?” I asked, quietly.

“As I said,” said Vigdis, “I am not going to pry into the details of your… experiment. But, as I said, your shift was absolute and these organs are fully functional. The reason these did not disappear when the rest of your body changed back to normal is because your magic detected a life inside, which completing the shift would have erased.”

It must have registered on my face that I had no idea what she meant, because she carried on. “A fertilised egg is implanted in the walls of this womb, Loki. Your illness is morning sickness. You are pregnant.”

Pregnant.

Pregnant with… with the offspring of…

“Well get rid of it!”

“I cannot,” said Vigdis.

I sat up again, and this time she did not try to push me back down. “Why not? There has been no law against it on Asgard since Bor’s time!”

“Your outside has shifted back to male. There is no route to the womb.”

“Then how am I to birth the thing?”

“Your body will likely alter to a female form again once the foetus comes to term.”

I looked around, seeing tools on a work bench nearby. “Cut me open! Feed me poison! Purge it from me!”

“I will not do anything that would cause you harm, my prince. And it is not the law that prevents me, it is you.”

“I want it out!” I roared.

She put her hands on my shoulders and shoved me back down, pointing at the dark patch in the soul forge that she claimed was a womb… _My_ womb…

“This embryo was formed because of magic. Your magic kept it safe through an otherwise absolute shapeshift. You don’t think it will continue to defend itself if it senses a threat? I cannot do anything without risking harming you, my prince, even killing you, and my job, my life, is not worth such a risk. Now stay still or I will put you to sleep, before you do my infirmary or yourself damage.”

I slumped back, suddenly unable, or unwilling, to move.

The beast had impregnated me. Growing in my belly was a… a what? A foal? My shift had, apparently, been absolute. The eggs I had created within me should have been a mare’s, not an Aesir’s.

Why was I even contemplating this madness?

“Please,” I whispered to Vigdis, who was now busying herself with potions on the other side of the room.

“Is there anyone you would like to confide in?” she asked me, gently. I knew she meant mother. Who else could I possibly tell?

I thought long and hard about it.

“No… No one. Please.”

“You are sure.”

I closed my eyes and fought back tears. “I am sure. Nobody. Please.”

“Very well.” She brought over a vial. “This will keep the sickness at bay, for the most part. One measure a day for two weeks.” She smiled at me, and stroked my hair. “You have always been a clever one, my prince. You will work something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be in just over a week's time, because I am away on holiday


	7. Chapter 7

I spent the next few weeks trying to find a way out my predicament. Amongst books on astrology and alchemy I hid books on anatomy, and on shapeshifting. I hid them from the librarians. If word got out that I was looking up books about pregnancy, Asgard would start to think I’d gotten some poor soul with child out of wedlock, and I was not prepared to deal with that conversation.

My efforts were, sadly, fruitless. The potions and remedies mentioned for preventing conception were all meant to be taken early. It had never even occurred to me that I could become pregnant, and so it was far too late for those. As for getting rid of the thing growing within me… Well, the various drafts all seemed too “old wives remedies” for my tastes. Not to mention, the measurements were written with fully Aesir children in mind, not some sort of half-horse creature. What if it failed? And what if, as Vigdis had claimed, my magic reacted poorly, and attacked me in return?

My life was not worth risking.

It was with a heavy heart that I accepted I must carry this thing to term.

I tossed and turned at night, unable to sleep, thinking in one second that if I just tried _this_ or _that_ and then thinking on it further, realising it was not possible.

And then, one morning, I looked in the mirror and saw that I was showing.

Just barely. My stomach… or slightly below it… was just slightly bulging outwards from my frame. I could cover it easily with clothes, or it would be laughed off as bloating. But I knew what it was and I was not going to be laughed at for it.

I wore something heavy and flowing, despite the summer heat which now permeated the palace walls, and for safety cast a slight illusion over the area to keep it hidden.

I spent most of breakfast glancing uneasily at mother, wondering if she knew.

Did Heimdall know? Had he told Father?

I had not been summoned to speak with him about the matter, so surely, he did not know… Unless he was keeping quiet to spare my feelings.

I sniffed and stabbed at my plate. That would be the day.

I had developed quite the appetite. I had read about cravings. The medicine Vigdis had given me had done its job, preventing me from being violently sick in inconvenient situations, though I was still throwing up in the privacy of my own bathroom. However, foods that I once loved now made my stomach turn and I found I wanted to eat more vegetables. A horse’s diet. How amusing. I rebelled by making myself eat meat and biting down the urge to retch. The foetus had its revenge by forcing it back up my throat and out of my body later on.

I was pushing eggs that I knew I’d see again later around my plate when Thor’s arm found its way around my shoulders.

“You are looking much better, brother. Is something different? A new lotion on your face? I know how you like those things.”

I was about to deny it, but Thor had just given me the perfect lie to play with. Why not exploit it? After all, a lie is easier when someone else has offered it to you.

“Yes, brother. Would you like to try it?”

Thor laughed. “Come spar with us later.”

“I cannot,” I said, pushing his arm away. “It is too hot.”

“Will you melt, brother? Will you shrivel up in the heat? If you stand in the sun, your skin will get thicker and then the sun won’t get into your blood.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Thor’s face fell. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I don’t like how you hide away in the summer. It was making you ill, brother, hiding in the shadows. I don’t like to see you like that.”

How was I to argue with that?

I changed with my back to the others. Sparring armour was light, but more pressing than that, it was fitted. There was enough give that I did not think I would have trouble fitting into it at that moment (I was already concerned about what would happen later), but the bump would surely show.

_It is so small, and only you know it is there. They will not be looking for it._

But what if… what if…

It would only take one of them to notice. And then people would talk, speculate and if the truth came out…

Take a heavy blow. Then this will all be over…

My mind reeled at its own cruelty. Yes, maybe it would work, but to intentionally allow something so brutal. Not to mention, my magic had protected the foetus thus far, it was probably prepared to protect from force as well. And that might not only hurt me but whoever was wielding a weapon against me. I could not put someone else in danger.

I hissed, taking a few deep breaths as I fastened my armour on and it pressed against my swelling form, tighter than usual. After a little while I adjusted, and I ensured my illusion was safely in place. I would have to take this session quite lightly. At least I had the excuse of the heat.

“You took a long time, brother,” Thor laughed when I finally left the armoury. He was already sparring with Hogun, so I took up a quarterstaff and found a young soldier who was not busy. It was a rather unfair match, if I am honest. I had been trained to defend myself since I was tiny in case of attempted assassinations or kidnappings. Even with some of my focus given to maintaining the illusion, besting the trainee was a matter of very little effort. We turned best of three to best or five after I won two bouts, then gave up after I won the third and he went off elsewhere.

Thor and Hogun walked up to me, wiping sweat from their brows. “Fine form, brother. You’re doing well, even in the heat.”

“You were watching?” I asked.

“The last round, yes. I must say, you’re slower than usual, though.”

I turned my face away, excusing the fault. “It has been a while since I used the quarterstaff.” I spun it in my hands a couple of times.

“Loki!”

“Hm?”

“Loki!”

“What is it, brother?”

I looked away from the staff and frowned at Thor, who looked just as confused. “I said nothing.”

Then who spoke my name? The question was answered almost as soon as I thought it. The boy who was running towards us could not have looked more out of place amongst warriors of Asgard. A servant, or perhaps farm hand of some sort, all streaked with dirt?

“Prince Loki.”

Ah, now he addressed me by title.

“What is it?”

The boy stooped, resting his arms on his bent knees, catching his breath. “Prince Loki, the stable master has sent me with a question…”

My heart stopped for a moment. My hand clenched around the staff. This boy was a stable hand. What could the stable master possibly want with me?

“Ask it!” I barked. The boy startled, and Thor’s eyes narrowed at me.

The boy took a few moments, swallowing and composing himself before he continued. “Um… well, your majesty, he only meant to ask if… if you knew the whereabouts of your mare?”

“I do not ride a mare,” I hissed, overcompensating for shouting at him. That only seemed to frighten the lad more. “The master knows that.”

“Not… not your hunting horse, prince… Your enchanted mare.”

I exhaled sharply. “For what reason does he ask?”

“The master wishes to know if she is pregnant, majesty.”

My nails dug into my palms. “She was a wild creature, boy. I found her, placed my spell and released her when I had no more need for her. I have no idea of her whereabouts or her condition. For what possible reason does the master care?”

The boy stammered. Thor put a strong hand on my shoulder.

“Be kind, brother. Lad, answer him please.”

A few more deep breaths and swallows followed, before he spoke. “He says he saw the mare run. Faster than any he’d seen, he said. And the great stallion is such a strong beast, any offspring of the two would likely be the greatest horse any realm has known, your majesty. He was keen to have that foal for the royal stables, if it were possible. Or else, to bring the mare to the stables so Svadilfari can mate with her.”

“The creature is being kept here!” I cried. Thor’s hand squeezed my shoulder in warning. I turned on him. “Thor, that horse was a Jotun’s beast of burden! It may well be a thing of Jotunheim itself, how can we keep it around?”

“Majesty,” the boy whimpered, “the stallion was overlooked by the realm’s greatest sorcerers, even the queen, and they said he is merely a horse.”

“The queen is not infallible!” I snapped and felt guilty at once for doubting my mother’s powers. “Why was I not consulted? Without question, the queen excluded, I am the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard, if not all the realms! Yet I was not asked.”

I wrenched my shoulder free of Thor’s hand and before he could protest or stop me, I was striding away from the arena, going who knows where…


	8. Chapter 8

I knew where I was going and yet I did not know – or I let myself pretend I did not know – until I reached the place. The royal stables. But of course I would end up here. I could not hide anymore. I had to come here eventually. I had to face this…

The place was strangely deserted. Not a stable hand to be seen, not even the master. Maybe he went after his messenger? I had not seen him as I came here, but then again I was not looking, was I? My focus, all this time, was fixed on only one thing.

I walked past the stalls, seeing Thor’s horse, Mother’s, Father’s, my own and several others. I ignored them all, their whinnies and snorts and huffs in want of treats. None of them were what I had come to see.

He was in the covered paddock. He had all the wide, open space to himself. Letting him get the run of the place before they released a mare to him, no doubt. He was trotting in circles but stopped when I approached.

“Hello,” I said, “Svadilfari.”

The great stallion trotted up to me, then snorted and paced a few steps backwards again, sizing me up. Was I friend, or foe? Did I have a carrot or a sugar cube for him, or reigns and a saddle.

I spread my hands to show I had nothing.

“You do not know who I am,” I sighed. The horse had never really seen me before. Certainly, he had never taken the time to examine me, as myself. I wondered whether there was any smell about me that might connect me to the mare he had taken all those months ago. Did he even remember what had happened? Was she a faded memory? Gone altogether? Or perhaps remembered fondly… or as a conquest.

I placed my palm on my stomach. “I carry your child inside me,” I whispered.

Some small part of me begged for Svadilfari to understand my words. But there was nothing in those eyes. No glint of recognition, nothing. Not even a snort to acknowledge I had spoken.

My hands were trembling now. I felt a bought of nausea such as I had not since I had begun taking Vigdis’ potion, but I swallowed it down. A tear ran down my cheek, fell, struck the dust and straw by my foot.

“Look what you’ve done to me!” I hissed.

The stallion flicked his tail, turned and began to trot away.

How dare he? How dare he just turn away from me!

The thing about stables is that they are full of sharp objects. Shovels and rakes for turning the hay and getting rid of waste. Old, rusting farming equipment that has not seen use in centuries, yet never thrown away. As luck would have it, the very cart full of tools that the horse had pulled into this realm in the first place…

Telekinesis is the simplest tool in a sorcerer’s arsenal. It barely takes a thought to use it. In fact, the talented sorcerer may use it without even thinking, his subconscious doing the work for him…

“Your majesty?”

How dare this creature, this brute, this _monster,_ treat me with such concept. How dare he _ignore_ me after what he did? The gall…

“Majesty?”

“Loki?”

And they think to bring mares to this creature? To use him as a stud? They know nothing of what he is, what he’s done…

“Loki!”

Thor’s hand fell to my shoulder…

Too late… Too late…

I had never seen so much blood in all my life.

The green tint of magic faded and the shovel and rake and myriad other pointed things fell to the ground, with such a satisfying squish of flesh and gore.

You would hardly have known there had been a horse there at all.

“Loki!” Strong hands spun me and I was looking into my brother’s face, his wide, distraught eyes, and the blood spattered on his cheeks – not nearly as much as I felt on mine – but I did not really see him. I saw only haze. “What the hel did you do? What are you playing at!”

I opened my mouth.

And stayed like that I while.

Until…

“Heh… heheh… ehe… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

They might have spoken, or shouted, or something… I did not hear over my own laughter. Not as Thor grabbed me and flung me over his shoulder. Not as I was carried back to the palace. Not as I was deposited into a chair in Father’s office to hear his lecture. I only laughed until my voice was gone and all I had left was the energy to slump and tiredly smile.

“That horse was a valuable asset to Asgard, and you have slaughtered it!” was the next thing I heard. It was Father’s voice. “For what reason, Loki? Why have you done this?”

I swallowed. I was in desperate need of water. I somehow managed to speak. “The thing was a Jotun beast, servant of a Frost Giant. It needed to die. It was a danger to Asgard.”

I heard another gasping, hoarse chuckle escape my throat, and I laughed once more. Softer, harsher, quieter now. I had no voice for anything else. I had no voice to answer Father’s questions. Only enough mind to hear him say, I think… “Take him to his rooms. He is to remain there until this madness leaves him.”

I was hauled to my feet. Marched, not carried this time, to my chambers. Pushed inside. I weaved my way to my bed and fell down upon it and laughed and laughed and wept and slept and woke in darkness.

I smelled blood. Everywhere. All over me.

My door was locked from the outside my magic. A thin spell, easily breakable. I left it as it was and went to bathe the last of the wretched animal off my body.

The was a bump. Yes, I could see it clearly now. Just a small one, but it was there. A subtle rounding of my lower stomach. Nothing to feel beneath it yet, but I could imagine there could be, and soon. What would it feel like? Would I feel it growing inside? Would it kick? Would that hurt? Could I keep such a thing hidden from the court? And for how long would I have to? Would this be an Aesir’s gestation period, or a horses’? How long did a horse pregnancy last, anyway?

“No, no… Oh gods no, I don’t want it…”

My reflection held a knife. It was cool in my hand. The leather strap around the handle was worn and soft and felt right in my grip. The blade glinted. Its reflection shone. I held it… I held up to my stomach… Plotted the cut…

In, just shallow, and a pull straight across. Quickly now… Quickly… The babe cannot be so deep. I could pull out the whole womb if I had to…

I could… I could…

My hands shook so…

I raised the knife high…

It struck the tile floor with a loud clatter and I followed.

 _Oh Loki, what a failure you are_.

I bathed. I slept. I woke to find food waiting for me. I ate. Slept. Read.

Knocked on my door and called to my gaolers. “I… I would like to leave now, please. I will apologise to the stable master. I will do penance.”

Mother came a few hours later.

“Do you wish to speak with me, Loki?”

I shook my head. She sat down upon the bed beside me, and I hugged my legs to my chest.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?”

I breathed deeply. “It was a beast of Jotunheim. It was a danger.”

There was a pause. Mother put her hand on my shoulder and I heard her sigh, feeling the exhale against my neck. “Are you going to tell me the truth, Loki?”

I stared at her. My eyes must be red. What a mess I must look.

I shook my head.

“Okay.” She kissed my forehead. “You can leave your room now. Apologise to your father and the stable master, please. And clean the stable. You may use magic.”

She stood up and left me to take my own time. If she figured out the problem, she did not mention it. I had been wearing a long robe, to hide the bump from her sight.

I never left my room without robe or illusion after that, for the next eight months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the death of an animal and Loki contemplating a very dangerous method of abortion.


	9. Chapter 9

The thing that grew inside me had a violent kick.

It was ignore-able over the first few months. An irritation, that might give me pause for a moment, before passing. But as time passed, and my stomach grew beyond obscuring with robes – causing me to spend most of my time alone or cloaked in a veil of magic – ignoring it soon became impossible. In the last couple of months, each kick was like a blow from Mjolnir. An insistent assault on my insides. I half convinced myself that the baby would kick its way out instead of coming the normal way.

Thor – and the rest of the court, if I am honest – was becoming annoyed by my excuses. I could not spar, did not wish to hunt or travel, and my usual excuse of the summer heat soon faded as the seasons turned.

As luck would have it, however, Asgard was struck that year by a dreadful winter fever, which left many bedridden. It filled our infirmaries and the people were advised to stay indoors if they were ill to prevent its spread. A perfect opportunity. I was able to hide myself away in my rooms under the guise of sickness, whilst avoiding catching the fever myself.

It was a boring winter, but I treasured that boredom. I watched my body swell and gritted my teeth through each powerful strike of unborn legs. The baby would be born in spring. How frustratingly fitting. As the cold faded, I began to wonder – if not worry – what would happen when the time came. How would the baby be born? I could not go about turning into a mare in my own rooms.

Pregnancy had thrown its challenges my way. The aftermath would raise a whole set of new ones.

“To be dealt with as they come,” I told myself, running my hands over the large bump and thinking how odd I looked.

Having no one else to speak to, I took to speaking to the unborn creature. I had not given it a name. I pretended I was talking to myself. I held conversations. All the things I might have done this summer and winter if I were not burdened by its presence. All the things I would do when it was born. The indulgences I would allow myself. Whole boars with dripping, sizzling fat. Mead by the gallon. Honey until my teeth ached. Something other than the vegetables my body craved and the broth they sent to my room to curb my fever-starved appetite. The downside of the lie. I grew so hungry some days that I thought about eating the paper from my books. I sent requests for fresh fruit – just about the only food I could request without raising suspicion – with the reasoning that it would help bring my body back to health once the fever had passed.

Thor came to visit, and Mother. They kept their distance to avoid the fever, so I sat in bed and covered my body with illusion and the illusion with my sheets. I spoke until I grew tired, or bored, or afraid they were seeing through my disguise, at which point I would cough and splutter and shake until they left me alone. The kicks occasionally helped make the fits look more real.

But isolation was maddening and by the time the days were starting to grow lighter, I tired of my self-imposed prison. I needed sunlight. I needed air. I needed freedom.

“Selfish little gaoler,” I hissed at my stomach. “When you are out, I will go to every realm and beyond them, just for some variety.”

The first time I put my head around the door, I sought out a servant and told them I was going out but wished to be left to my own devices. I felt well enough, but feared the fever had not quite passed and did not want to risk passing it on to anyone – and would they be kind enough to see that my room was cleared and freshened whilst I was out?

My illusion this time was of a stranger, not myself, swathed in a cloak. I did not want anyone to see my face and try to strike up a conversation – ‘Prince Loki where have you been all this time? Plotting some marvellous trick?’. Oh, how free I felt. After weeks of loneliness, the hustle and bustle of the busy streets was overwhelmingly refreshing. The people still huddled in winter clothes, but I felt almost warm.

These walks became my new addiction. I alternated from the town to the gardens to the woodlands, never straying too far from the palace but revelling in spring’s early days. I began showing my face – if only briefly – in the palace again.

“Why, Loki,” said Mother, as I tried to discourage her smothering me with hugs, “there’s a glow about you, my love.”

“Is there?” I asked, absently, and soon after that made my excuses and left.

The next few days, my walks were different. There was some kind of tension in the air. I felt quite keenly that I was being watched.

The baby’s legs struck out at me again and I doubled over, growing at my stomach. “You are making me paranoid.”

As if cowed by my words, the baby went still and stayed still a surprisingly long time. If I had the mind to notice, maybe I would have worried. But I was thinking only of myself.

I was taking a walk around the royal orchard when I felt a slight cramp and put it aside.

My magic was whirring. It had been mostly unused, save for the same old illusions, for months, and was becoming restless. Today, it wanted me to shapeshift.

 _Change… change_ …

“I cannot. I would hurt the baby. It would hurt me.”

 _Change_ … it whispered, snaking into my limbs, willing me to obey.

“No,” I said, firmly. I reached up to pluck an apple and slid down the tree’s trunk to sit and eat it.

My magic was like an itch, worming around my brain with its insistent cry. I refused, raising my head to allow the sun onto my skin. I thought about dropping my illusion for a moment. After all, there was no one around, and maintaining it was making me groggy. My stomach was cramping and grumbling.

“How many apples will satisfy you, little beast?” I asked.

A few moments later, the baby answered with a kick so powerful that I spat out the bites of apple I had just taken. I crumpled, hugging my knees up to myself a few moments. By the Norns, was that wetness, soaking my trousers? Had the kick really made me loose control of my most basic functions? I sobbed at the thought of such a humiliating…

Oh… Oh no, that wasn’t what it was at all…

“No, child… You cannot…”

And yet, at the same time, this meant the thing would be out of me as soon as possible. The very thing I had wanted for months but now it finally came… I was struck down with a fear that kept me from moving.

The first true contraction hit me, worse even than the kicks. A great blow, like a thousand spears to the stomach, all from the inside, and I screamed before I could stop myself.

My body might have given me a womb but from the outside it was still fundamentally male. There was nowhere for the child to go.

 _Shift_ …

Into what? A woman? I knew by instinct that the size of the child was too great. I’d be torn apart. There was one option. One option only…

Not here. Not in the orchard.

I used the very tree I had been resting again and hauled myself to my feet. My legs were shaking… And suddenly I was not in the orchard but the forest… Clothes torn; body bloodstained… limping through the woods from tree to tree. The very ordeal that had brought me to this place… My breath caught in my throat and I gasped and struggled for air.

No! No! This was not the time for panic.

The orchard was a blessedly short walk from the edge of the woods and that field where I had first taken form of the mare. I stumbled to the outskirts and closed my eyes. Then opened them. I was alone, completely alone. Clothes, if they changed with me, would only prove an inconvenience when I changed back. I hurriedly stripped, banished my clothing to a pocket of magic and quickly as I could willed myself to changed.

It came surprisingly easy. But my magic had been wanting it for a while now. I was finally letting it happen.

The mare’s instinct was like a roar. Find safety, give birth in peace, somewhere near good grazing and fresh water. My mind fought it. I knew the only safe place. I drove my legs to walk. Nowhere near as fast as the first time I had taken this form. Burdened by my heavy stomach. My brain was like the driver with a whip, urging my horse body onward, towards the palace, towards the royal stables.

Two young stable hands, a boy and a girl, spotted my approach. They ran towards me, foolishly, before their teaching kicked in and they stopped. This was a wild mare, and a pregnant one at that, dangerous to come close to. But I was not going to attack. I was desperate for their help.

The girl whispered to the boy, who ran back to the stables. She remained, and took slow, careful steps towards me. I walked shakily towards her, let her reach out a hand. The mare’s nostrils flared at her scent. I resisted the urge to bolt. No, this was where I wanted to be. This was safety.

A soft, warm hand pressed to my muzzle. I went still, let her move her other hand to my neck. She clicked her tongue and whispered silly comforts at me. Baby talk. I trotted anxiously on the spot, snorted as another contraction rippled through me.

She must have seen this sort of thing before, recognised the signs. “You are giving birth.”

I flicked my tail. I could not let her know I understood her words, but at least I could urge her to act properly.

_Just take me inside, girl… please…_

The boy came dashing back, and threw a coil of rope to his… sister? Yes, sister, they looked as though they shared features. I allowed her to tie it loosely around my neck and guide me to the stables. I would have walked willingly if they had let me.

They brought me into the open, covered paddock, so was enclosed and could not bolt. The very place where I had killed Svadilfari. It was spotless now. My magic had made the cleaning process quite easy. It was cleaner when I was done with it than it had ever been before the slaughter.

The boy went to fetch the stable master, and there were hushed conversations about whether to tie the other end of the rope to a post or to let me roam free in the paddock. In the end they reached a compromise, tying a much longer rope around my front hoof before securing me, and untying the rope from my neck. After that, a different debate struck up.

“Do you think she’s?”

“Yes, she looks just like…”

“So the baby is most likely…”

“We cannot speculate on that. She is wild, and there are many wild stallions out there.”

“But we can hope. A horse so fast, so strong…”

“Fetch Prince Loki. He will tell us if she is so.”

The poor stable boy ran off on his pointless mission. Those who remained began to poke and prod and examine. If I had been myself, my face would certainly have turned bright red and the foolish soul who lifted up my tail for a good look would have surely had a knife in their eye.

 _They do not know it is you and they never shall. Allow them to do their job. It will be easier. This will all be over soon_.

Not soon enough. By the gods, the pain was unbearable. If this was the reality of childbirth, I would have to apologise profusely to mother once this was over.

“I think this might be her first foal,” someone commented.

“She seems afraid.”

A whinny escaped my mouth. I pawed the ground. Someone fetched a bag of oats, but even that could not soothe me.

My legs gave way at last. I could not deliver standing. This would have to happened on my side. I heard great, panting breaths and knew they were my own.

Never in my life before that moment had I been in such pain that death seemed preferable. I was already so tired. Months of keeping up an illusion had taken their toll. My body was weak. How could I possibly do this?

New feet were approaching, running into the paddock, and the next I saw was bright blue silk crumpling, kneeling into dust and straw. Then a welcome face entered my vision.

“Your majesty, why have you come here?”

“This is Prince Loki’s mare,” Mother said, over her shoulder, to the stable master. “His order was that when her time came if he was busy, I should be called.”

She wrapped her arms around me, one hand stroking my mane and the other on my heaving chest. She gazed deep into my eyes and in that moment, I knew that she knew. She had probably known all along. What a fool I was to think I could hide anything from her.

“It is okay, my beautiful creature. You will get through this, and birth a marvellous foal. The fastest and strongest the nine realms have seen.”

Was that a prophecy, or was she saying it just to make me feel better?

Mother was there through the next hours as they passed, rubbing my stomach and back through every contraction, calming every panicked cry, offering slices of apple and cubes of sugar stowed away in some magic pocket of her own.

Then, at last,

“I see it!” cried the young stable girl. “The foal is coming!”

Except… there was hesitance in the tone.

“Oh… It is facing the wrong way around. I see all four legs.”

Both the Stable master and Mother crossed to my other side to better see what she was saying.

“I have never seen a birth like this before,” the master mused. “Well, not a successful one…”

I shrieked in horror, my whole body jerking. The stable hands must have seen this as a pang of pain, and put all their weight upon me, holding me down. That only made me want to fight more, but Mother was there, hands stroking over my muzzle, cooing and shushing until I calmed.

It caused the stable master pause.

“Now is the time, beautiful one. Push,” Mother whispered. I wondered if the fear truly showed in my eyes. I pushed with all my might.

Oh, I felt all four hooves. How could a creature of this size possibly leave my body? I was going to be torn apart after all… My eyes rolled back; my head slumped…

The stable master made his move. “Right, there is only one thing for it. Cut the mother open. Save the foal.”

“NO!” Mother was on her feet. All I saw was the two pairs of shoes in front of me and heard their voices. “This is Prince Loki’s wild mare. An enchanted creature. Invaluable to Asgard. Either she lives or both do. If the foal must be sacrificed, so be it!”

“I think it may be too late for that, ma’am.”

“Do not ‘ma’am’ me! This mare is strong, stronger than any other in these stables. If she dies, you will not only incur Prince Loki’s wrath, but my own. Is that what you want?”

The man stammered.

“She can do this,” Mother said, firmly. “She must.”

I must.

I pushed. With all my might, I pushed. Through every second of unimaginable pain, I pushed.

“I have it! I have the legs!” cried the stable girl, and I felt a tug. She was helping, pulling the foal out as I pushed. “And I see the head, I see the… wait… This is not right!”

Once again, every person disappeared from my line of sight to get a good look at the foal.

“By Yggdrasil itself!”

“This is impossible! Have you ever seen the like?”

“What manner of horse is this?”

More than anything, I desperately wanted to see what they were seeing, to know what they were talking about. Well, perhaps not more than anything. More than anything I wanted this to be over.

Then Mother returned to my field of vision. “You are doing so well. He is a wonderful thing, I cannot wait for you to see him. One last push, my dear.”

I did it. For her, I did as was asked. And felt at long last the foal slide from my body.

It took all my strength not to change back to myself there and then.

“Shush, ssh, not yet… The afterbirth, sweet one,” Mother cooed.

“My Gods,” the stable master was saying. “Eight legs.”

I managed a huff of confusion, but Mother was smiling and that meant everything was okay.

Then she was standing again, and giving orders. “Don’t just stand around. Find Prince Loki, bring him here.” And then whispered words, I know now what, so that the stable was cleared.

“Turn now, turn yourself,” Mother said, “that’s it… Go on… See your child.”

She coaxed me to stumble up and turn my sweating, heaving body, so at last I could see the child I had been carrying so long. The foal – a colt, I had heard them say – was grey like my mare body, and dappled with darker spots. A bright white star adorned the spot between his eyes and his mane was as dark as my own hair. His eyes were closed but he nosed towards me in search of comfort and possibly milk. But all that was barely noticeable when it came to his legs. His long, spindly legs… All eight of them.

“A creature born of magic,” Mother whispered, and I flicked my ear.

The foal pressed to my stomach.

I do not know what I had even planned before this moment. Was I thinking to just stand up and walk away? How could I possibly do such a thing?

“The afterbirth is done,” Mother was saying. “You can change back now. Fully.”

I raised my head.

“He will still know his mother,” she reassured me. “Here…”

Her hands pressed to my temples and poured into me the magic I needed. In a flash of green light, my mare form was gone and I was myself. Naked, covered in sweat and other fluids, but myself. Even my flat stomach was returned.

The foal still pressed against me. Yes. She was right. He knew his mother. I put my arms around him and breathed his scent and he breathed mine.

“How…” I was going to ask ‘how did you know?’, but what a foolish question that would have been. “How am I to feed him?”

“There are many foals born unable to suckle from their mothers for many reasons. There is milk here in great supply. I will find some, and make sure you are the first to give him a bottle.” Mother stroked my hair, and conjured for me a cloak which she draped over me. “My brave, wonderful son. Look what you have achieved.”

“He has eight legs,” I murmured, without any judgement or wonder. Just a simple observation.

“Indeed. What a great runner he will be.”

I laughed at her optimism. The foal heard and made a few small sounds, butting his head beneath my chin until I hugged him close again. Mother set to work untying the rope from about my wrist, the one securing me to the post in the middle of the paddock. I rubbed the spot where it had chafed and my magic set to work erasing the red mark.

There wee voices outside the paddock. Footsteps. Mother stood, went to the gate and threw it wide open, before returning to my side.

“Do not worry, I will handle this. You just speak. No unneeded effort.”

There was a tingling sensation as she threw an illusion over me, of a Loki who was not tired and sweating and clothed only in a cloak, kneeling in the dust with the foal in his arms. Just in time, the stable master returned with his apprentices.

“What took you so long?” I asked, with all the authoritativeness I could muster. “Did I not order that I was to be called if my mare returned with child?”

“I am sorry, your grace.” The stable master bowed low, which was satisfying to see, “the order never reached my ears. Please accept my profound apologies. Um… where is the mare, your grace?”

“She is gone,” said Mother. “She was a wild creature and could not remain cooped up here.”

“But… the foal.”

“It is sad, but you know sometimes the mares reject their young. I suppose she was thrown by his extra legs, poor creature. But Asgard has the foal we wanted, with all her speed and all his father’s strength, And likely more besides. Now please, someone go and make up a bottle of milk.”

The stables bustled about me, obeying Mother’s commands, seeing up things for the new foal. I remained where I was, curled on the ground with my offspring. My son. As promised, I was handed the bottle and so gave his first feeding. Mother said that I would produce my own milk, and there were ways to deal with that when the time came. As a horse, this child would be independent much more quickly than an Aesir babe, and so as a mother I was fairly lucky. At last I had time to dress myself. All I wanted was to wash, to rest, but I hated to be torn from my son.

“He will still be here in the morning, or there will be Hel to pay,” Mother reassured me. “But superstition says he has a better chance on his first night if he is named. Does he have a name?”

The foal nosed at my palm, already standing on eight wobbling legs, if only for a brief moment before he had to lie down again, struggling to fold all eight comfortably beneath him.

I looked at him with more love than I had known for any creature before or since.

“Sleipnir. I would name him Sleipnir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features the a horse birth, not graphically described


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think one of the cruellest lines I've ever written is in this chapter. And no, it isn't the last one (though that comes close).
> 
> And so this fic comes to a close. Thank you guys for sticking with it and all your likes and comments. This is also the last fic in the "Edda" series, or at least will be unless I can think up another fun way to weave Norse mythology into the MCU.
> 
> <3

Mother warned me that my body was not done with its changes. Giving birth was only the start.

“For one thing,” she told me, quite seriously, after we had been left alone and I was able to find a vacant stall in the stables and dress myself in privacy, “you shall produce milk for the foal.”

She warned me not to worry and found some strange device from a dusty storage room. No use to me in my normal form, but if I changed into a woman I was able to use the thing to pump the milk from my breasts. It was an uncomfortable process, but once done I could bring the milk back to the stables for my child. Mother reassured me that it had everything he needed.

“How long for?” I asked her.

“A few months,” Mother said. Such a short amount of time, though made to seem longer by discomfort. Still, it was easier to hide than pregnancy, and far easier to deal with.

I slowly emerged back into public eye from my winter hibernation. I visited the stables every day, to feed Sleipnir, talk to him. I was worried about his ability to walk, to run, so ungainly he seemed on those eight long legs. I needn’t have. From the moment he could walk with confidence, he could run too. And what a runner he was. The stable master was right, he truly was the fastest horse in all the nine realms. There was no getting his legs in a tangle. He knew exactly where and when to put each hoof with such a natural grace. After a few runs around the paddock, he came trotting back to me and nuzzled up to me, and I rewarded him with a cube of sugar.

“That foal is quite affectionate to you!” Thor laughed, clapping me on the shoulder. When he was so jovial with me, it was easy to forget his moments of arrogance and anger.

“Well,” I said, patting Sleipnir’s head – he was almost tall as my shoulder now, how fast he had grown – “his mother left him. Someone has to show him affection.”

“I am glad of it. He had brought you out of your shell, Loki. After your illnesses last year, I thought you’d changed into a recluse.”

“Hmm.”

I let Thor feed Slepnir slices of apple. He was near fully weaned, thank the Norns. I had stopped producing milk, and he was a hungry little thing, needed a lot of food to match his energy. They couldn’t get enough milk from other horses to satisfy him.

When I felt my body no longer had surprises for me, I went to the infirmary and asked for Vigdis, to see her alone. I had her examine me. As I expected – perhaps hoped – the ovaries and womb were gone.

“But not permanently. You have fully shifted back now, but if you shift again they will return, and stay if they have a reason to.” Vigdis bent towards me and spoke in a whisper. “May I ask what happened, Prince Loki?”

“The fever,” I replied, with an injection of sadness in my voice. Not too much, just enough to convince and warn her not to pry further. “The winter fever took it…”

Vigdis nodded sagely and went about her work.

Years passed by. A year is a blink to one as long lived as an Asgardian. The time passed and I adventured with my brother, got into mischief, learned new magics and skills. Life was just as it had been before the Builder came to Asgard.

But a horse – even a magical one with a long lifespan of its own – grows quickly. Within almost a decade, Sleipnir stopped growing.

I was thankful he did. He was much larger than me now. He towered even over Thor. A giant of a horse. I couldn’t help but wonder if there had been some Jotun blood in his father after all. He had muscles and strength to match his speed. Sometimes I stood before him and felt awe. Sometimes that awe was more like fear. I hoped every time I saw him that he would recognise me as his mother, and not just some small nothing standing in his way.

But whenever I came to the stables and put my hand out – holding a whole carrot, or apple, or just a gentle hand to touch him – he would sniff my scent and a light would come to his great brown eyes. He would snort in welcome. I would touch my forehead to his and lead him out into the paddock – then the field when he became too large for the paddock. But I never rode him. Not once. That would have been strange. Wrong, even. Thor asked me why and I made the excuse that his size was impractical. I preferred to ride smaller, lither steeds, quiet enough to go unnoticed and fast enough to slip away from danger. Sleipnir was fast, but his eight hooves were like Thor’s thunder. Impossible to ignore.

The time came that the stable hands – and the new stable mistress – were discussing what to do with him. He couldn’t just lounge around the stable all day without purpose. This was a young stallion, only just fully grown. He could be of practical use for Asgard. But how?

When I heard that they were contemplating using him as a workhorse, I strode down to the stables at once and forbade it.

“This is a creature of magic, and you will not waste him!” I cried.

But the only other option that was suggested was for him to be a warhorse.

I recoiled at that. The idea of Sleipnir being ridden into the frontlines of battle by some soldier was heartbreaking. He was strong, but not invincible. How easily might he be cut down? I couldn’t bear the thought of that. And yet… He would make an ideal steed for a leader in battle.

“He is my horse,” I said. “And I will not ride him into battle. He does not suit me. But even so, Sleipnir is a horse fit for a…”

I almost said “Prince”. Almost. For the smallest moment, I meant to gift my son to Thor.

And then I thought about it a little longer and realised that I could not. Thor was rash and impulsive. Thor was easily angered and had no tactics.

And Thor was my brother.

And out of some brotherly pettiness, I decided I could not, under any circumstances, let Sleipnir become Thor’s steed.

But there was another alternative.

I finished my sentence.

“King. Sleipnir is fit only for a King.”

And so, on Odin’s next birthday, I stood before him and presented my gift.

“This,” I said, “Is Sleipnir, son of two magical horses. The strongest, fasted steed in all the nine realms. I would have him be your steed, father, for such a horse deserves a King as his rider, and a King deserves such a horse.”

It was, in a way, my apology for causing this mess in the first place. I hoped it would be accepted.

Father’s hand was placed on my shoulder, warm and heavy, and I raised my bowed head and looked into his eye, staring intently down at me.

“Thank you, my son. I shall accept this magnificent gift.”

And that is the tale of how Sleipnir, son of Loki, became the war steed of Odin, Allfather of Asgard and the Nine Realms.

And that is how any other telling of this tale would end, but I cannot leave well enough alone and so I must hasten to add that although this was a happy ending for a while, as with all things in the life of Loki Silvertongue, Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief and Lies and always ending in more trouble than I hoped to start, it ends sourly.

Tis my lot in life.

That was all so long ago now. And yes, when I said at the start of this tale that I could barely remember it, that was a lie. The whole affair is burned onto my brain and I shall never forget a single moment of it.

The last I saw my son was in the rainbow light of Bifrost, when Odin came to save us from the Frost Giants. The day I found out what I really am. I – perhaps arrogantly – assumed that day was the worst of my life, the worst I could ever experience, just as I had once assumed the same of the day of Sleipnir’s conception.

That was before I fell.

Before Thanos.


End file.
